THIRD PERSON POV
The laughter at the table swelled like music, the wine loosening tongues and teasing confessions. Masks glowed in the candlelight, jeweled eyes sparkling as the women leaned closer to one another, whispering jokes and sinful remarks that would have been unthinkable in their daylight lives. For a moment, it felt almost ordinary—ten women dining in luxury, enjoying their escape.
Then came the sound of glass against crystal. Clink.
The masked host at the head of the table lifted his goblet, his gloved hand steady, elegant. The room silenced instantly, the air tightening as if the walls themselves held their breath. His presence was not loud, but commanding; he spoke as one who needed no effort to be obeyed.
“Ladies of Velaria,” he began, his voice smooth, low, carrying an
